


Caught

by WriterWithNoName1



Category: The Eagle of the Ninth - Rosemary Sutcliff, The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011), The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: Affection, Awkwardness, Celts, Cultural Differences, Fluff and Angst, Forehead Touching, Happy Gay Farmers, M/M, Post-Movie(s), Repression, Romance, Touching, romans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 20:58:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12240495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterWithNoName1/pseuds/WriterWithNoName1
Summary: Marcus keeps running away from Esca.





	Caught

Marcus likes to curry the horses.

He has a gentle touch despite his formidable size, and he has traded his centurion’s commanding bellow for something much softer. In fact, since Esca and Marcus have established themselves on this little corner of Britannia, the Roman hasn’t said much at all.

Marcus is not one for idle chatter, and Esca knows he did not make it easy for him when they travelled towards Hadrian’s Wall.

He was a stone, immovable, silent.

He gave curt, one word answers to dissuade Marcus from trying to get closer and ask any questions that might stir up his buried pain.

However, the simple need to survive bypasses all other things; the war between the Britons and the Romans would have to wait for another day.

But he didn’t intend to fall quite as in love with Marcus as he has done; Esca is a fool, a king of fools, and now he’s not sure what to do about it.

They’ve fucked, of course. Two men alone in the wilderness, there is not much else to do; and it helps with the cold.

He expected Marcus to be quiet afterwards, distant, maybe a little gruff in order to preserve his ego; good Roman men did not take other men who were not slaves or whores and did not let themselves be taken.

Esca prefers to dominate his bed mate, going so far as to verge on violence; but it’s all for the sake of pleasure, for both parties. He’d never force himself on another, unless it was a game they both knew the rules of.

So it did not sit completely well with him to take on the receptive part of the exchange; but he will compromise for Marcus, only for Marcus.

And the Roman let himself be held afterwards. He allowed Esca smooth his fringe, to rub his nose against the curve of Marcus’ strong jaw.

Allowing Esca to pet him, to shush him as he had his nightmares.

Maybe, one day, he will let Esca have his body completely; and it will be glorious. Till then, they tread lightly in each other’s wake – unsure – not knowing how this will end.

They sleep in separate beds.

Esca wants the simple affection they had that one time across the wall, the brushing of shoulders, the gentle caressing of fingers.

However, Marcus keeps avoiding him.

He is skilfully dodging the Briton’s affectionate touches like a child staying out of the clutches of an overbearing nursemaid.

It is irritating. Esca just wants to _touch_ him, not even in a seductive fashion.

Now, he has the roman cornered; there is only one way in and out of the stables.

Esca slides behind him like a predator, Marcus only now noticing and acknowledging his presence. “Esca, do you need-?”

The Briton clasps his hands around Marcus’ waist, the Roman’s words die with a small, choked sound.

Esca can _feel_ him blushing, it’s travelling up his back and going all the way to his ears. “Esca… what are you doing?”

“Giving you some of my love.” Esca replies, muffled by Marcus’ taunt back muscles. “Because I’ve missed you.”

“I…I haven’t gone anywhere, Esca.”

The Briton’s own heart is racing, he hopes the Roman will not shove him away. He grips Marcus tighter, savouring whatever he can get before his friend flees.

Marcus swallows. “I…Esca, I need to finish…”

“Please, Marcus, turn around.”

The Roman turns, an automatic response to a direct order; there’s a deep seated desire in his bones to please, Esca feels somewhat guilty for taking advantage.

But he loves Marcus this way, this is what he hides from Rome’s eyes.

The Briton reaches upward, palming Marcus’ face in both hands, his olive skin shocking against Esca’s own paleness.

Esca can just about see some of Marcus’ freckles peeking out from the neckline of his tunic.

“…is this more of your love?” He asks quietly, flushed pink around his nose. Esca nods. “I still don’t understand, I haven’t left the farm in days.”

Esca sighs. “It’s not that you’ve left, Marcus. I miss you in a different way.” He slides one hand down to thumb the hem of Marcus’ sleeve. “We haven’t…” It’s difficult to articulate. “Since we bought this land. I thought maybe you’d… like to, again.”

The Roman frowns, but then his face shifts into one of understanding. He manages to turn a deeper shade of red. “Oh. That.” His gaze skitters around the stable, as if looking for an escape.

Esca steps closer, the Roman is forced to copy his move, nearly bumping into the mare he was currying.

“Well?” Esca presses, determined.

“I… think I would.” Marcus admits.

“Then why don’t you come to me? And why do you shy away when I come to you?”

Marcus crosses his arms, frowning. “I am not shy.”

Esca kissed the scarred skin underneath his jaw, it earned him a soft gasp from Marcus in return.

Good.

Drawing those quiet, pleasure filled sounds from Marcus made Esca’s blood simmer.

“And yet.”

The Roman sighs, and he takes hold of one of Esca’s wandering hands. “I am not shy Esca. How could I be? I commanded an entire legion, made them march, fight, die for-“

Esca interrupts him. “It is not the same. You know that.”

Marcus shifts from one foot to the other. “Esca, I am not… as free with my affection as you are. It is not proper for a man to be falling about, stupefied with love, and gushing endearments.”

The Briton’s eyes narrow, his anger started to bubble. “Says whom?”

In truth, Esca knows the answer.

It is Rome.

Even here, on their own land, the Romans are stomping all over the life they are building together; there are still walls and rules and judgemental eyes in Marcus’ mind.

“I…” Marcus is having trouble with his words. He’s not a stupid man, but he has trouble expressing his intimate thoughts; even to Esca.

“You think cuddling with me will make you less of a man?”

Marcus snorts. “That’s not all you want, Esca.”

Esca laughs. “No, but in some ways, I think the fucking is easier for you than the rest of it.”

The Roman’s humour vanished for a second. “Keep your voice down.” He mutters. “So all this nonsense because want me to-”

“It is not nonsense.” Esca snaps. “You are cold to me and you know you are, and I don’t much like it. I just want to hold you more often, is that truly so much to ask?”

The mare nickers, disturbed by their raised voices.

“…I don’t need to be held.” Marcus says, his voice quiet.

Esca reaches for him. “Sometimes, I think you do.”

The Roman seems to give in, letting his forehead fall and rest against Esca’s. He doesn’t talk, only breathes, and Esca breathes with him.

“…maybe.” Marcus whispers.

Esca was flooded with a sudden urge to protect, to hide Marcus away in some quiet, dark place where nothing could spy in on them.

“Shh…my Marcus.” The Briton ran his hands through Marcus’ course brown hair, stroking every part of him he could with all the tenderness he had. “My Marcus, my brave one, my friend…It is alright. I have you.”


End file.
